“But—”
“Read into it later, Spy Girl.” His eyes devoured me as his nostrils flared. “I’m hungry.”
I was an idiot, my first thought was, Oh hey, grab some chips, I can wait, I can be patient for what I’m assuming is going to be the best sex of my life, I’ll just sit here naked.
But the swing was coming back toward him.
He was reaching out, stopping it, and pressing his face between my thighs.
And the thought of handing him a Pringle?
Absolutely gone.
I gripped the ropes as my teeth clenched, and yes, my eyes really did roll back as the intensity of his tongue grew, as the pressure changed. And just when I was ready to tell him I really did love him and wanted to live in his bar forever, he pushed the swing back with a smug expression.
I gasped. “What the hell was that?”
“My tongue.” He grinned.
I narrowed my eyes. “Not that—” He caught the swing, silenced me with a finger, and tilted the seat backward, then gave a gentle tug on the outside of my hips so my ass slid toward him.
“This hotel though, really, best view in town.”
I flexed my thighs.
He flicked his tongue again, giving me no time to respond, no time to ask him to keep going, no time to even process what was happening or that this wasn’t how I had planned my night, not even a little bit.
He gripped my hips like he was holding on for dear life, then tugged my ankles onto his shoulders as his tongue dove deeper, killing me with each movement, making it impossible for me to control anything except the feeling of the heat from the fire mixed with the hot licks from his mouth, all boldly demanding I let go.
I clutched his hair.
He shoved the swing back.
“Colin!”
“What?” He grinned. “I want you to anticipate, not control.” He caught the swing. “I want you to feel the slide of my tongue everywhere, I want it to haunt you at night when you tease yourself with the what-ifs, I want you to burn for it when you realize that you are perfect just the way you are.” His chest heaved as sweat ran down it. He shoved the swing away again.
And when it came back, he caught it and gazed down at me. I ran my finger down his chest then licked the sweat off.
With a groan he gripped my thighs, like his own control was hanging on by a thread. He never did what I expected, so when he slid his hand down my right thigh, when he reached inside me, I couldn’t even tense.
“Did your ex take his time with you?” Colin whispered as I shuddered beneath his touch. “Did he bring you pleasure first, always first? Did he make you feel?”
“No,” I whispered.
“Then he doesn’t deserve another thought.” He slammed his mouth against mine, while his fingers dove deeper, only to come back as he rested his palm flat against me. So many sensations built up that I tried to pull away from his mouth.
“Feel me, Blaire,” he encouraged against my lips. “Just me.”
So I did.
Because the player made me feel safe.
Cliché, here I come.
And I did.
I fell apart in his arms like I’d never experienced.
He lifted me off the swing and onto his lap as he sat down on the rock feature bordering the fire.
I moved my hands to his jeans.
He stopped me with another kiss and then cupped my face. “Stay with me?”
I nodded.
“I have a no-sex rule.” He grinned.
“But—”
“Don’t frown. You did just say we’ve only known each other one week . . . stay with me, get breakfast with me before you set out to save the city from cheaters . . .”
“I thought . . .” I felt stupid saying it. “I thought you wanted more?”
“I do.”
“But?”
“Stop saying but.” He flashed a smile then kissed my cheek. “Maybe I want you to burn, maybe I want you to remember what my mouth feels like, maybe I want you to want more before I give it to you. Besides, a little bird told me you think you still want my best friend. Gotta prove all that wrong before I eat dessert.”
“Then what was that?”
“An appetizer.” He slapped me on the ass and placed me to the side before standing and glancing back at me. “Want some cereal?”
My heart almost leaped out of my chest. “What kinds do you have?”
“Amateur.” He smirked. “At least fifteen, pick your poison, then we can talk trash about your ex the rest of the night while I contemplate all the positions I’m going to get you in later this week—I’m thinking we could really make a great team in the shower . . . naked.”
“Naturally.” I bit down on my lip and went with it even though I was already looking forward to the adventure. “But it all rests on this one question.”
He braced his body against the kitchen table, looking so sexy I wanted to throw something at him. “Do you have Cocoa Puffs?”
My answer was a box flying at my face and a question about spoon preference.
I smiled.
A real smile.
And when we clinked our empty bowls together fifteen minutes later, I genuinely felt . . . happy.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
COLIN
Jessie was going to kill me.
He hadn’t outright told me she was off-limits because of their past, but I knew the rules of brotherhood.
And I’d just spit in his face and taken her anyway, but what right did he have to stake a claim on a girl when he was still holding on to one?
I justified my actions the way he justified his. He was in the wrong.
Didn’t make it right.
Or make the guilt any less severe that this woman, the one currently sleeping next to me, in my bed, was getting caught in the cross fire of our friendship in a way she probably hadn’t anticipated.
I clutched the sheets as she sighed next to me, and when I turned and looked at her, it happened, that stupid-ass moment that I knew would seal my fate.
One day.
I always told myself.
One day I’d find someone who made all the shit I went through with my parents seem like a bad dream. I wanted the opposite of what they have. I wanted the good things about a relationship. The togetherness. The friendship.
One day I’d look at someone and want more than a one-night stand.
One day, she’d say yes to me.
I’d known her a week and felt a connection that went beyond the desire to fuck her and satisfy my needs.
It was confusing as hell. I stared at the ceiling and let out a long exhale. I loved women, I loved making them feel good, and I loved feeling good—besides, I hated to admit it, but they all seemed alike to me, all wanted the exact same thing.
Except Blaire.
She took one look at me and discounted me as another struggling actor or someone living in his parents’ basement. It’s not even that she made me work for it, it’s that she made me want to work for it, because I loved her laugh, her cute smile, the way she got herself into hilariously awkward situations yet was wicked smart when put in her element. I just . . . I wanted to be around her without scaring her, without losing my best friend, without causing more drama. Fuckkkkk.
And of course, of course, my best friend was standing in the way, not to mention the messed-up issue between him and my sister kept making me doubt how this was all going to go down.
I let out another sigh just as Blaire stirred and then whispered, still with her eyes closed, “Do you do that a lot? Sigh like a girl?”
I scoffed. “I don’t sigh like a girl.”
She mimicked me.
I shoved a pillow over her head for a second before she fought back and then sat up on her knees in one of my white T-shirts.
“You should be sleeping,” I said in a gravelly voice.
Her eyes weren’t locked on mine.
In fact, I wasn’t even sure she was listening.
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Instead her hands immediately went to my hair.
Tugging it like it wasn’t real.
And then running them through it to reach my scalp, it felt like heaven. “Stop and I’m never letting you leave again.”
“And if I keep going?”
“We get married.”
She laughed.
I joined in because it was a joke, right?
“Your hair”—if it wasn’t dark, I’d see her blush—“it . . . it’s long.”
I grinned like a maniac.
“Like Tarzan,” she added.
“Is this where I pound my chest and take you up into my tree house?”
“That depends, do you have a tree house?”
“I’ll fucking build you one if you keep doing that.” I sighed, relaxing my head against her chest.
With a laugh she continued and then pressed me against the mattress, covered me with the duvet, and continued scratching.
I fell asleep with her hands in my hair.
And her heart burrowing even deeper into my soul.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
BLAIRE
Sunlight slowly crept over the duvet and onto my face, I blinked and turned on my side.
Colin.
Colin’s hair.
His wild, Tarzan, good-God-let-me-give-it-a-good-strong-pull hair looked too pretty to be real against the white pillow. His face was innocent, his body wicked.
He was the epitome of every woman’s fantasy. From his full, sinful lips to his rock-hard body.
I was in over my head.
At least I wasn’t naked.
I had clothes on.
Couldn’t say the same for him and didn’t want him to think pulling back the sheet and taking a peek at what he was packing was an invitation.
My body buzzed from his mouth, still.
Man had talent, I’d give him that.
But of course he did, he was able to please multiple women at the same time, of course I wasn’t going to be disappointed.
So what was that feeling in my chest? The one that threatened to make me break down in soft sobs against his high-thread-count sheets.
I felt helpless.
Jessie had been too good to be true.
And now Colin.
Jason had been . . . Jason. The guy I thought I could count on because all he’d wanted in life was to get married, work at his job, have kids, and watch football. I knew he wouldn’t break my heart, so there was no risk in handing it over, however broken it was at the time.
And now I was left to wonder where I fit with everything. Was I the girl they played with until someone better came along? Had Jason thought me safe too? Was I the girl that guys settled for when they needed a life partner? Or just the one they married until their dream girl appeared?
Insecurity washed over me in painful waves until I was picking apart every single aspect of my character, like my ability to get in rough situations, joke with myself, eat licorice like it was my job, wear mom buns like it was socially acceptable to use dry shampoo for longer than three days.
With a sigh I pulled away from Colin only to have his hand reach out and grab my wrist as his eyes opened.
“You’re leaving.” He didn’t form it like a question, more like a why-would-I-be-doing-that sort of thing.
I gulped. “It’s morning.”
“You said you’d stay.”
“I didn’t say how long.”
“Still my birthday, I celebrate all week long,” he argued with a smile. “At least let me make you breakfast.”
I tilted my head in thought. “I didn’t think this was one of those situations where breakfast food was involved—breakfast is basically like taking someone to dinner instead of coffee for a first date.”
“So what? If I want to give you eggs, I give you eggs. It’s as simple as that.” He slowly rose to a sitting position, his chocolate hair cascaded across his shoulders. I’d always hated long hair on guys. But it made Colin look more appealing.
He cupped my face with his hands and kissed my lips softly, then pulled the sheets back and stood.
I was faced with a naked, firm ass.
And I didn’t hate it.
Not even a little bit.
I even tried to.
I tried to be offended that he’d sleep with me naked.
I tried to be offended that his ass was inches from my face in all its godlike glory. I even imagined him scratching it.
Nope.
Nothing except the shocking desire to reach out and slap, then squeeze, then reach around it and—
“Blaire?”
I jerked my eyes away. “Yup?”
“Did you hear anything I just said? Should I give my ass and you a minute alone?”
Yes. “No.” I felt my cheeks heat. “Sorry, I just need coffee.”
“Sure you do,” he said in a singsong voice. He reached for a pair of sweats and slowly put them on, but not before turning and giving me a full frontal that had me nearly swallowing my tongue.
“Do I have your attention now?” he whispered gruffly.
Sweet heaven.
I didn’t realize my jaw had unhinged itself from my face until he jerked the pants over his growing erection and snapped my mouth closed with his finger.
“Love that blush . . .” he said under his breath. He headed out of the room and called over his shoulder, “Eggs or pancakes?”
Food? He wanted to talk about food right now?
Still in shock, I finally managed to crawl out of bed and make my way to his huge kitchen.
And like he promised, he was mid–egg crack.
I checked the time on my phone and crept over to the fancy-looking Nespresso machine.
It looked like it was ready to launch into space.
At least I saw an “On” button.
The sound of eggs cooking and the smell of Colin was enough to make my stomach growl. I wasn’t sure if it was him, the eggs, or the mental picture of his naked salute, but I wasn’t really on point with any of my thoughts or sluggish movements.
Suddenly he was behind me, his stomach pressed against my back, his hands wrapped around my body like a cocoon. “Need help?” he breathed on my neck.
I didn’t lean back.
I wanted to. “Th-thanks.”
He grabbed a few pods. Paralyzed, I just watched and let myself feel him, all the while getting more and more disappointed that whatever this had been was most likely over, and it was all due to my own insecurities, nothing he said. I was an information girl, I aligned the facts. Fact: Jason left me. Fact: Jessie never wanted me bad enough. Fact: Colin liked multiple women, so what in the heck made me think that one night on a swing was going to make him want more?
I berated myself for thinking it could go past last night.
Stuck between wanting the guy who got away, who was most likely cheating, and his playboy best friend really wasn’t a place I imagined I’d ever be. And yet there I was, stuck between a solid eight-pack and a Nespresso machine that cost more than my rent.
“No problem.” Within minutes he handed me a frothy-looking coffee but let out a loud curse right before I brought it to my lips.
“What?” I jumped a foot, nearly spilling coffee all over the floor.
He shot me an amused grin. “I burned the eggs.”
I scrunched up my nose. “I don’t need eggs.”
“I’m egging you.” He pointed the spatula in my direction. “I just need a distraction-free kitchen.” He crossed his arms.
I stared back at him. “I’ll be quiet.”
“It’s not your voice that’s distracting me,” he murmured, eyeing me up and down. “It’s you in my shirt, standing in my space, where no woman before has stood, looking adorable and innocent—looking like you’d be more than happy to spread those thighs again and give me a taste . . .” He ran a hand through his long hair. “So if we’re ever going to eat actual food, I need you to go over there.”
He nodded
toward the living room.
I frowned. “You’re serious?”
“Three eggs died because of those thighs.” He licked his lips. “Don’t make it four.”
I shook my head and held up a free hand. “Fine, I’ll be over there on the swing.”
He groaned. “And there goes another one.”
“Window!” I corrected. “I’ll be by the window.”
“Good call,” he grumbled. “Maybe cover up with a blanket, toss it over your head or something, better yet, grab the curtain and just stand behind it.”
“Hah-hah.” I rolled my eyes and went to check out the view I’d missed last night while his tongue did all the things to me I knew I’d relive later when I was alone and sad in my bed with my body pillow and pint of ice cream.
I took a sip of the best coffee of my life and watched people mill around Hollywood.
I needed to be at work soon.
But part of me just wanted to exist in the space I was in.
Where I wasn’t chasing down Jessie.
Or dealing with his awful wife.
Or worrying about Colin and if his feelings were genuine.
In that moment, drinking his coffee, I felt . . . relaxed.
It was the first time I’d felt that way in a long time, and I couldn’t really pinpoint why, especially since I knew his reputation.
“Good news,” Colin said ten minutes later. “The eggs survived!”
I turned and grinned at him. “My hero.”
“Dig in.” He set the plate on the breakfast bar and handed me a fork. “Sadly, I need to get ready for work.”
“Still so shocked you actually work,” I said between bites.
“Very funny.” He winked. “First impressions aren’t always correct, you know.”
“I know that.” I took another bite. “Now.”
“Please, you know you want this snake tattoo all up in you.”
I scrunched up my nose.
“It’s early, that came out wrong.”
Snake all up in me? I almost choked on my eggs while he sauntered over to me, then kissed my forehead. “I’m going to shower and dress really quick.”
“Wait! Your eggs will get cold!”
“I don’t eat eggs,” he said casually. “I use them for baking.”
Dirty Exes Page 16